Redemption: Denied or refused?
by Conrack
Summary: PunisherX-Men crossover. Take the distant and emotionless Punisher and force him in a close and emotional enviroment...
1. A quiet night in New York

Disclaimer: This is stupid. I do not own the Punisher or any other Marvel character in this story, but you all knew that, didn't you? I'm just a humble soul who thinks that the Punisher is the most spectacular thing to have ever happened in the Marvel universe.

Period

This story might be slightly AU because I know very little about big Franks' adventures prior to Welcome Back, Frank.

Even though it involves he X-Men it will mainly centre on Frank. It's a little experiment where I force the distant and emotionless Frank into an environment of closeness and emotions.

I hope you will bear with me and enjoy the story

A fair warning: This story contains graphic violence, foul language and the mentioning of rape and drugs (It's the punisher, whaddya expect?) ;-)

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* * *

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**THE PUNISHER**

**Redemption denied, or redemption refused?**

* * *

It was a quiet night in New York...

Scratch that, bad start; New York is never quiet, especially not at night.

Gunshots and screams echo off the darkened allays, courtesy of the killers, muggers, rapists and psychos of the New York night time, haunting the streets like predators, looking for their next helpless pray.

It was the gaping maw of a soulless monster, waiting to consume any fool unlucky enough to wander into its jaws. It was a heaven for the predators and pure hell for everyone else. It was New York at night.

But the predators weren't safe.

They knew that no predator was mightier than the dark spectre that hunted all the other predators, the urban legend that could make even the boldest crime boss whimper and cower in fear, the soulless body of Frank Castle, sworn to kill every last criminal on this earth, fuelled by an insane burning hatred that consumed his very mind, sharpening his thoughts and body.

He was the Punisher

A shot! A scream! The sound of a body hitting the ground. Enraged yells, more shooting. The Punisher at work.

He swiftly rolled over the hood of a car, landing just in time to hear bullets impact where he had been only seconds before, and in one fluid motion he withdrew an H&K Mp5 sub-machinegun, dropped flat on the ground and shot under the car, catching one of the goons in the kneecap.

Screams of pain shredded the air, and he could hear the other goons yell in fright. Judging from the voices, Frank estimated that there were still four men chasing him. Too bad for them.

He heard more bullets embedding themselves on the car and decided to find new cover, so he returned the favour with a 15 shot salute at the goons and dashed into a nearby alley.

"Fucker's buggin' out" One of the goons yelled, and they all charged after him, screaming and howling like a pack of starved wolves smelling fresh blood... a pack of STUPID, starved wolves.

The first goon had barely turned around the corner before a single lead discharge slammed onto his forehead, making the rest of his cranium explode into the faces of his buddies, causing them to freeze on the spot. A neat chain-reaction, and a bad mistake on their part, as a leather-clad arm suddenly whipped around the neck of an unlucky goon and held him in an iron like chokehold, making him a, though unwilling, rather effective human shield. The other goons hesitated, not wanting to shoot at their friend, but alas for them, The Punisher had no such qualms and instantly riddled both their chests with red-hot bullets, which only left the unlucky goon in his arms.

"NO! Please, I'll do anything, please don't do this pleaaase" The man sobbed and screamed uncontrollably, tears, sweat and snot cascading down his face, but a quick twist and a loud 'SNAP' silenced him instantly, his neck very broken.

The streets felt silent, as if exhaling, and the Punisher unceremoniously tossed the corpse aside and headed back to the alley where the fight had started.

Sure enough, she was still there. She was naked from the waist down, and already some ugly bruises were beginning to form where the scumbags had tried to force themselves upon her. She was unconscious, which was lucky for him because she otherwise could have been hysterical; something Frank was very bad at handling.

He took off his leather trench coat on laid it over her to conceal her nakedness and allowed himself to inspect her further. She was very small, no taller than 5'8 and, while not skinny, she still looked a bit frail. She looked Asian, but it was a little hard to tell with the bruises and the dried tears on her face, and she looked no older than 17.

Frank gritted his teeth in anger, but felt satisfied because he knew that retribution had come to them in the form of a flash, a boom and the sensation of organs dissolving, and as his eyes wandered over the poor girl again he noticed her cell phone lying next to her on the ground. It had probably fallen out when the goons had ripped her jeans off.

He decided that it was about time he called an ambulance, so he went to pick the girls' phone up, but as he bended over her he was suddenly blinded by a huge flash, causing a lifetime of experience to spring into action, and in less than a second he had rolled backwards, drawn a gun and switched his trigger finger on 'shoot-on-sight' mode.

He furiously blinked the dancing spots away from his eyes and looked down at the girl, who was now wide awake and holding out her hand, palm facing forward.

"Easy now, I'm here to help" He spoke as soothingly as he could, trying to calm the girl down, but she just stared at him with large, unnaturally blue eyes; red and swollen from crying.

Her eyes slowly travelled up and down his entire body. He was at least six foot three and heavily muscled, his face was wrinkled and scarred, he had a very strong chin and jaw, a broken nose and a frightening scowl. His deep-sitting eyes were covered in shadow, making it impossible to read his emotions, and his jet-black hair was neatly slicked back. But most remarkable was the menacing white skull staring evilly at her from his pitch-black flak jacket.

"Y...you're the...P...Punisher" She managed to say in a very weak voice

"Just relax, I'm going to call an ambulance..."

"No" She interrupted him weakly "C...call Xavier's school of..." She never managed to finish the sentence as a new voice roared

"DIE YOU MUTANT WHORE!" It was the guy with the recently missing kneecap. He had somehow managed to crawl all the way back to this street to settle the score. It was as if time slowed down for Frank as he watched the goon point his gun at the girl, and before his mind had even registered what was happening his body had already sprung into action, flinging himself between the goon and the girl. He heard two thunder crashes and could feel the bullets impacting on his chest, causing something to go crack under the Kevlar, but even as his vision began to swim he still managed to conjure up three fresh bullet-holes in the face of Mr. kneecap before god turned off the lights...

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Okay, I need to know if I should continue this, or if it's just a complete waste of time, so would you PLEASE review.

As all you writers know, reviews are fuel for the crazy furnaces inside our heads. ;-)


	2. Awakening and answars

..._beep..._

"...Try and stabilize him..."

..._beep..._

"...one lung punctured..."

..._beep..._

"...armor piercing bullets..."

..._beep..._

Frank slowly felt the world slip back into place...

..._beep..._

And immediately felt like flatlining...

..._beep... _

He felt like was he was swimming, he could hear muted voices above his head...

..._beep..._

He tried to gather some coherent thoughts...

..._beep..._

But as soon as he pieced more than two thoughts together...

..._beep..._

They all became a grotesque kaleidoscope of pain and old memories...

..._beep..._

In an effort of Herculean proportions he slitted his eyes and was greeted by the angry, blaring light of a luminescent lamp being forced into his eyes with roughly the same amount of pain and unwillingness as if it was a dull toothpick.

...beep...

The murky pool inside his head began to solidify; his thoughts fell back into their rightful places...

...beep...

The proverbial gears began turning...

...beep...

"Where am I?" His voice was raspy, making him wonder just for how long he had been out.

Somewhere above him, a gentle, wizened old voice sprang to life

"I'm glad that you're finally awake, I was worried..."

"Just answer the damn question!"

The voice hesitated, probably taken aback at the sudden burst of hostility...

"You're at Xavier's boarding school for gifted youngsters" The voice finally revealed

"Oh"

A beat

"WHAT?"

..._beepbeepbeep..._

A quick mental calculus: Take one well-respected personage, add one vigilante serial killer. Result: Police arrival imminent.

That realization hit Frank like a point-blank shot at the face, and he franticly clawed the various tubes and needles from his body and dashed for the door, but he only managed two steps before his insides kindly reminded him that he was in no condition for such rash activities, and he fell to the floor with a pained yell.

The voice was calm and kind; "You really shouldn't do that Mr. Castle, it has only been a few hours since our doctor, Mr. Henry McCoy removed the bullets from your body, and they did quite a lot of damage"

Frank looked up at the bald man talking, and recognition came crashing down upon him...

"Charles Xavier"

"Indeed" He smiled warmly, and that set Frank a bit on edge.

Hundreds of questions immediately lined up in his head, tripping over themselves to get out first.

"Why am I here?"

"If you are worrying about the police, then I can assure you that you are completely safe at the moment"

'At the moment' Frank didn't like the sound of that

"Why?"

Xavier seemed taken aback at the question, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world

"You saved the life of one of my students, it would be extremely inappropriate to leave you to the police, especially considering the state you were in. You did take two bullets for her"

When he spoke, he sparked another memory in Franks' foggy mind.

"How's the girl?"

Frank noticed that Xavier's smile tightened, a tiny detail easily overlooked, but on a man so proficient in hiding his emotions as Xavier, it told of anger and frustration. Expertly concealed, but not invisible.

"Under the circumstances she is fine; She has a couple of bruises and is very sore... well you know where, and she has burns from where her jeans were ripped off. But that's just physical, I'm afraid that the whole ordeal has been rather traumatizing for her, she cried uncontrollably when we brought her in, and one of our resident telepaths had to stop her from going into hysteria. But she has fallen asleep now, thank god. She needs all the rest she can get in her current condition."

Frank felt a surge of relief in his stomach, but also a knot of fear. She was a young girl who has had her innocence shattered like a bullet through a mirror, shattering the image forever. That thought made him cringe. Innocence was a rare and beautiful thing. Few people had it, and those who had it would often lose it, deliberately or otherwise, and once they did, there was no going back.

There is no reclaiming innocence. He hoped she would be all right.

In her room, Jubilee tossed and turned in her sleep, as the demons of her nightmare hunted her, howling, drooling, sadistic monsters that knew her every weakness and closed in for the kill.

Her arms flailed around her and she mumbled frightened incoherent sentences. Her face had swollen because of the bruises, and she would be unable to open her left eye for a couple of days.

Next to her bed, a man sat and guarded over her, watching her as she slept, wiping tears off her face and cringing when she moaned in pain.

He was rather short, only five foot five, but he was broad and powerfully built, muscles rippling over every inch of his body, and his hair was pitch black and uncontrolled, almost exploding from his skull and surrounding his sharp-featured face. He had a crooked nose and a mouth that seemed to be made for sneering, and his icy blue eyes were almost... animalistic, burning with an intense anger and need to protect the girl beside him.

Logan was, in many ways, an animal. His fierce temper and brutal demeanour was courtesy to living in the wilderness of Canada for many years, and his predator-like claws and senses were courtesy of his mutation, and lastly, the adamantium in his body was from the Weapon-X project.

But for all his anger, he was deep down a good hearted man who protected those he loved and cared about with unsurpassed passion, and right now he really felt like protecting this young woman...

He hadn't been told what had happened, but there was a scent on her that he had recognized as soon as they brought her in...

Leather, cologne and gun oil...

Frank Castle...

* * *

So howdya like where this story is going?

Know that I have planned a lot of conflicts in the future, not only with Wolvie here, but also with all the do-gooders.

Oh, and please R&R. I can't go on without it...


	3. What now?

I apologize for the first two chapters looking kinda strange, but I'm completely new to the uploading system and need to get used to it. Sorry people.  
  
Jeanelle Angelline – My very first review! Happy dance! Seriously though, thank you very much for that review, it's stuff like this that motivates me, and when the praise is coming from a skilled and experienced writer like yourself, well… Makes me all warm 'n' fuzzy 'n' shit… ;-)  
  
- - - -  
  
"FRAAAAANK"  
  
Visions of Jubilee's battered body kept flashing before his eyes. His Jubilee. Raped. Desecrated. Violated. The scent of Frank Castle and the stench of semen hung densely in the air of her room, like a constant reminder of his failure to protect her. All bets were off.  
Logan's' vision was red and swam with rage, and the suppressed animal inside him had burst its' chains and where now completely in control of his body, and the animal had an unquenchable blood thirst and a very single-minded purpose… Kill  
  
Frank was tore out of his torpor by the sound that most of all reminded him of a wounded grizzly on steroids, and his instincts instantly sprang into action and in the blink of an eye both his hands were filled with razor sharp surgical utensils and his eyes were scanning the perimeter for any sign of danger, but as the door to the room vaporized in a cloud of splinters, Frank knew he was down shit creek…  
  
"SNIKT"  
  
"You dirty, rapin' piece o' shit, I'm gonna fuckin' KILL YA!"  
  
Before him stood a familiar man-animal with blazing eyes, sharp claws and in intent to kill, but before he could make a move a flash of blue intercepted him, another man-beast by the looks of it, and tackled him to the ground, and with the help of a little skeletal manipulation, made sure he stayed there.  
  
In any other place on this earth that might have been unusual…  
  
"Logan, will you kindly refrain yourself from harassing Jubilees saviour?" The voice was rich and sophisticated, the voice of a lawyer or a doctor, and it took some time for Frank to realize that it was coming from the blue-furred man-beast on the floor. The second voice however was easily recognizable.  
  
"Git the fuck off me Hank, I could smell this little shit all over her! He ain't no saviour, he's a fuckin' rapist!"  
  
Any other person on this globe would probably be offended by such an accusation, but when you have spent more than half your lifetime as a mass-murderer, you tend to grow immune to other people's opinions.  
  
Frank knew that he had…  
  
"It's nice to see how trusting you are of me shorty, but for your information I didn't rape the girl, and you can check my credentials splattered all over the street where I found her"  
  
Logan began spewing a long string of obscenities at Frank, but all of a sudden he just stopped and lay perfectly still, as if he had run out of batteries. Very unlike Logan.  
  
"Ah, backup's here" The Blue-furred one rose to his feet and smiled kindly at Frank. He wasn't very tall, maybe five-foot-ten, but he, like Logan, was almost ridiculously muscled and he had long, almost gorilla-like arms that spoke of tremendous strength, and he carried himself with a kind of feline grace, a sign of great agility and self-control. But his face was the most remarkable feature for those who could look past the obvious signs of mutation. It was a gentle, intellectual face with deep eyes that told of great empathy and a razor-sharp mind. It seemed almost out of place on his body. Frank suspected that his intellect might be his strongest forte, even with all his strength and agility.  
  
"Have you been told what happened?" Frank asked the blue one.  
  
"I have"  
  
"Then make sure HE knows" He gestured at the prone Logan "before shorty here decides to play acupuncture with me"  
  
"Of course" The blue extended a massive fist "My name is Hank McCoy, and I want to thank you for what you did. It was very brave"  
  
Frank might or might not be an animal, but the sudden display of friendliness after his brush with death in form of nine-inch claws unnerved him, but he hesitantly grabbed the huge hand and shook it.  
  
"I guess"  
  
- - - -  
  
"I take it he wasn't briefed on the situation?"  
  
Xavier looked angry. A rarity at best, and not something any of the X-men enjoyed. Not because the fear of punishment or reprimanding, but because he was an exceptional person, the very core of the X-Men and their philosophy. He had guided them through the darkest times and the guardian angel that protected them from the harsh outside world. Without him they would have been nothing; just some renegade freaks waiting to stumble into the scope of a sniper, but he had given them hope and purpose, and therefore, it grieved them when they failed him in something so simple.  
  
The tension in the room rose to unnerving heights before a tall brown-haired man collected enough courage to break the dense silence. "No, he insisted on carrying Jubilee to her room, and we were all too busy to think about the possibility of him drawing his own conclusions."  
  
The man who spoke was Scott Summers, leader of the X-men and the first student of Xavier. He was six-foot-two and athletic built and had an angular, handsome face, eyes hidden behind a pair of red-coloured sunglasses. He was also known as Cyclops because of the vizier he wore in combat to control is mutation; the ability to release a devastation power-blast from his eyes that, if not controlled, could nearly level an entire building. A gift-wrapped curse as far as he was concerned.  
  
Xavier frowned, an act that made him look as old as he was.  
  
"What did ya do ta me, Chuck?" Logan growled. The animal inside ham had crawled back into its cave, and right now Logan didn't look too happy, but if it was about Charles, Frank or himself no-one could tell.  
  
"I merely paralysed you. I'm very sorry, but it had to be done. Now, how is our patient?"  
  
Hank stepped forward. He was now wearing a lab coat and thin-rimmed glasses, a strange contrast to his bestial look. Almost yin and yang; two complete opposites.  
  
"He is surprisingly fine considering the wounds he had, and the fact that he woke only a few ours after the incident speaks well for his resilience, and I doubt this is the first time that he's been wounded like this, so I would say he'd be up and about tomorrow"  
  
The room fell silent as everybody contemplated these news. But the silence was soon broken by the voice of a young man.  
  
"Uh, can I ask you something?" It was Bobby Drake, the resident prankster, and the typical hyper teenager, with the energy of an overamped energizer bunny. He was a smiling, handsome and cheerful happy-go-lucky type that took everything in a stride and made everyone smile. Or at least, those that didn't try to escape or strangle him. But right now he looked surprisingly serious, something very unbefitting his demeanour.  
  
Xavier looked at him kindly and motioned him to proceed  
  
"Well, what are we going to do with him now? I mean, if we just let him go he'll go back to killing people again." "Then what do you suggest?" Xavier asked, not unkind.  
  
"I say we turn him over to the cops"  
  
Everybody looked at him, either surprised at the statement or the person making the statement.  
  
"I agree with Drake" Scott said, "He's a danger and must be taken into custody"  
  
"Hey" Logan barked, "Don't forget that he saved Jubilees life!" "You didn't seem to hesitate to kill him Logan" Scott sharply retorted  
  
Logan narrowed his eyes, and his whole posture tensed.  
  
"That was different, I didn't know what was goin' on. I'm just sayin' that if I had risked my life to rescue someone, an' the thanks was bein' shipped to the brig, then I'd be royally pissed. And I'm sure Frank'd be too."  
  
"Well, sending him to death row hardly seems like a fitting reward for saving someone's life" Hank's deep bass quietly rumbled.  
  
Xavier looked down in silent despair. This seemingly trivial matter could quickly split the entire team apart, splintering age-old friendships and making way for new-bred rivalries. He would not risk it. Not again. It had sacrificed everything, going through the highest peak and the lowest abyss to keep this unlikely group together, and he almost couldn't overcome having to do so yet again.  
  
Right then, Xavier felt old…  
  
- - - -  
  
It's safe for you to review, y'know. I'm not planning on stopping anytime soon. ;-)  
  
But I know where you're coming from; I usually don't read stories under 20.000 words, but should you stumble upon my humble writings, be as good as to drop a review. Please? 


	4. Second Awakening

Jeanelle Angelline: I've tried e-mailing you, but my computer's gone haywire with viruses and crap, so I have to mail from another computer. But I'll get to it.

C-Wolf: Thanks. I will

- - - -

Logan hovered over the body of the young woman like a guardian angel of death, his face obscured by shadow, hiding the sorrowful expression on his face.

"L...Logan?"

As the heart of a dead person can spring to life at several hundred volts, Logan sprang to life with a jolt as he heard the quit whimper from the bed next to him.

They looked at each other's eyes for an instant, and seconds later the girl lay in his waiting arms, sobbing for all her life's worth

"Oh god, he died! They...they...it hurt, a-and then he...blood all over and he...he...shot, b-but he..."

The events of the previous nights spilled out of her like a waterfall from a cliff, and Logan was dumbstruck at her terrified state, so he tried to soothe her to the best of his abilities

"S'okay, darlin'" He buried his face in her hair and whispered at her, his voice thick with emotion

"S'okay"

His vocal chords constricted like a snake around his neck, his voice stuck in his throat, and all the pent up rage and frustration in his heart spilled out from his soul through tears of joy.

And so they sat for several minutes, just holding each other, seeking comfort in each other's presence, creating a sanctuary from the harsh reality, if only for a moment.

But the real world caught up with them soon enough, they split their embrace and Jubilee wiped her eyes. She tried to get out of her bed when a sharp knot of pain formed I her lower regions, like someone were ravaging her most delicate body parts with coarse sandpaper, and she fell back on her bed with a cry of pain.

Logan cringed visibly at this. The wounds on her were still fresh in his memories, dancing on his retina when he closed his eyes.

"Easy darlin', Hank said that you shouldn't walk fer a couple o' days 'cause you have some..."

Logan felt sick in his stomach

"...Some pretty bad cuts down...down there, and they might re-open if ya...

His voice betrayed him, fleeing from the awful words it just said, and he fell silent, shoulders hunched.

Jubilee looked at the pained Logan. The brutish, nonchalant and indifferent macho-man who didn't need anybody's help. The father figure of her life, the gentle man hidden under the many layers of anger, formed to protect him from others, and others from him.

He had just thrown his façade to the floor and was putting his emotions in full display.

Jubilee felt a great happiness and almost...pride. Pride that Logan had allowed himself to show her his emotions, and pride that she had gained the love and trust of a person as hard-shelled as the Wolverine.

She reached out and gently squeezed his hand.

Logan smiled and squeezed back, and a though suddenly stuck him.

"He didn't die y'know"

Jubilee looked at him, baffled to say the very least

"B...But I saw him get shot. Right before I called you. He got shot twice. Right there"

She pointed sharply at Logan's' chest. He smiled at the mix of relief and confusion in her voice.

"No, he's fine. He's one tough bastard, that's fer sure" Logan inwardly grinned at this. He was quite sure that Frank had been shot almost as many times as he had. He knew how to handle himself, even without mutant powers.

Jubilee looked at Logan in wide-eyed surprise.

"Wow, can I go see him?" She almost bounced up and down.

Logan felt like laughing out loud at the sudden resurrection of her old self, but he put on a straight face and spoke sharply.

"Yer ain't goin' nowhere, and neither is he, and that's final."

They sat for several minutes, just chatting and small talking like the previous night had never happened, but when Logan rose from his chair and turned to the door, Jubilee immediately grabbed his hand again.

"Don't go! Please!"

Logan inwardly winced at her frightened tone; he could clearly hear that the ordeal was still too fresh in her memory, so he cupped her head in his hand and planted a kiss on her forehead.

"I'm just gonna go down an tell Chuck that yer awake, okay? It'll only take a few minutes."

- - - -

For Frank, the days melted together in a jumble of seemingly random happenings; Hank walking in and out, monitoring screens, giving him injections, Xavier wheeling in, trying to start a conversation, the fluorescent light flickering occasionally. The anaesthetics in his body made the logical confusing and the concrete intangible. He drifted in and out of consciousness, and it was difficult for him to distinguish dream and reality.

_The jungle was a claustrophobic labyrinth of green. The steady thump of boots treading on the dirt was the only noise to_ _cut through the dense silence. No birds were singing. Nothing. _

_He raised his hand, and the thumps stopped, the boots frozen in their tracks. A clearing. The enemy was there. Strange little men with hearts like tigers, crooked eyes narrowed under the rice-paper hats, looking for the villains that had dared invade their native soil. He got down on one knee and prepared his gun. He made a sign with his raised hand, and hell rained down on the adversaries. _

_They never stood a chance; the red-hot lead tore through their bodies leaving gaping, jagged entry- and exit wounds. The jungle greenery became red and slick with blood and intestines, and the mangled corpses piled higher and higher..._

Frank bolted up from his bed, and managed to curse himself as a sledgehammer of pain rammed into his solar plexus, pulverizing his chest completely. Or at least, that was what it felt like to him.

He decided that he needed to relieve himself, and despite strict orders from Hank, he got out of bed and headed out in the hallway. He was in the main building; they hadn't dared to bring him into their 'top-secret basement hideout', and was quite happy that way. This place was big enough without a huge basement complex to get lost in. Now how was it? Down the corridor to the right and then the first door...

He stopped in his tracks.

A beautiful red-haired woman stood in the corridor. She was wearing a lab-coat and had a notepad in her hand. She was probably five-foot-ten and, as any of the X-Men, athletic and finely toned. Only now, the looked pale as a ghost, her knees quivering like lukewarm jell-o and she had to hold on to a doorframe to keep her from falling.

"You all right?"

Her breath came in forced gasps, as if she had just run a marathon, but with an effort she managed to regain her speech.

"I...I..."

She looked sick, and seemed to fight hard to keep her stomach contents from spilling out on the floor. The sound of a person running like a madman shattered the heavy silence, and the man with the red sunglasses came skidding around the corner at breakneck speed.

"Jean! Oh god, what happened?"

He ran and embraced her tightly, and the poor woman exploded with tears on her husbands shoulder.

Scott turned his gaze to the other man standing in the corridor. Could his eyes have been seen, they would betray a steel-hard glare, and even with the glasses Frank could still tell that he was fuming.

"What did you do to her?" His voice was laced with ice.

Frank was rather dumbstruck by this accusation. "I didn't do anything, I found her like this" He retorted, a little sharper that he intended.

"Don't lie, Castle" Scott all but yelled,

"I have a psychic link with my wife, I can FEEL her emotions, and I just felt extreme fear and disgust, so I'm asking you again. What. Did. You. Do?"

"Scott, don't"

A tiny voice overthrew Scott's ranting, and both men looked at the bleary-eyes Jean, looking Scott directly in his eyes.

"Leave him alone!"

A look of utter perplexity planted itself on Scott's face, but before he could draw breath, she interrupted him sharply.

"Scott! Leave him! Let's just go, alright?"

The pair disappeared in the corridor, the redheaded beauty leaning on her loving husband for support. They almost looked like they were talking wordlessly.

Frank just stood alone in the corridor in the uncomfortable hospital garments.

"What the fuck was THAT all about?"

- - - -

Sorry for the long delay. I've been wrestling with some viruses, and my computer's not running optimally.

Please review, and to those who already did; Big thanks, you all have a special place in my heart. Or something.


	5. Leaving?

* * *

To everybody who has reviewed: THANKS!!! :-)

To Booyah: Fedt at se jeg ikke er den eneste dansker her! Hvor er du fra?

* * *

As soon as Frank was up and about, he began preparations to leave. Hank had insisted that he stayed in bed for another three days, but the wounds were almost healed, and he needed to keep up his training. He also felt he had worn out his welcome here in this psycho-circus; he could clearly feel that some of the inhabitants here were less than pleased with having him here. Just the other day he had walked past this woman with a white streak in her hair, and when she saw him, her pretty face had contorted into a mask of pure disgust, and while he knew many people felt that way around him, he still preferred not to have it so close to him. He was almost finished packing when he heard a knock on the door.

"Yes?" He called. Right now social interaction was about as inviting as a headache, but if he wanted to stay on relative friendly terms with the inhabitants here, he had best at least be kind enough not to tell everybody who approached him to fuck off.

"M-mister Castle?" A feeble voice came from the doorway.

Franks mind exploded into visions of a brutalized young girl lying naked in the streets, and all irritation vanished in a heartbeat, making way to a feeling of relief, and he could feel some muscles in his face flexing, almost as if...

...he had smiled.

For a nano-second, Vietnam, his family, his bloody crusade, everything was forgotten in that surge of relief, but as fast as they had been forgotten, he remembered them again, and his face fell back into his normal grimace.

"I-I just wanted to thank you for saving me, that was really brave of you..."

Frank turned around and looked down at her. Now that he saw her without blood, tears and bruises on her face, he had to admit she was a pretty little thing. He hoped the bastards he capped for this was burning slowly in hell. She still looked a bit frightened though.

In truth, Jubilee was somewhere between being ecstatic and terrified. Frank still looked intimidating as hell, but she was convinced that he was a very nice person underneath all that. Just like Logan. He just needed to loosen up a bit. Just like Logan...

She stood there awaiting response for the longest time, and she was almost about to turn around when she heard his raspy voice.

"No problem"

Jubilee could feel bubbles of excitement in her stomach. See. This guy wasn't so bad as everyone made him...

"You're not very talkative are you?" Jubilee joked.

"No"

Deadpan.

She was taken aback at this. Usually people would try to strike a conversation in a situation like this, but this guy seemed to deliberately avoid it. Not in this mansion Jubilee thought to herself.

"Allright then!" She chirped, sticking out her hand "I'm Jubilee"

A beat...

"Jubilee?"

"Jubilation Lee" She explained with a grin

"Oh" He seemed content with this explanation, and after a few tense moments he grabbed her hand and shook it, then promptly grabbed the duffel bag the professor had borrowed him and headed for the door.

"You're leaving! Why!?" Jubilee shrieked.

"Why not? Frank replied with his back turned to her

Jubilee felt bewildered; what was wrong with this guy? "Because I want to get to know you"

Frank's froze in his tracks, as if he had a gun pointed at his back. He ominously looked over his shoulder and caught Jubilees eyes.

Now she really was terrified. He stood in the doorway as the silhouette of the grim reaper, his eyes two pieces of burning ice, cold enough to solidify the very Antarctic itself, a soulless pair of orbs piercing through her very soul; The very essence of hatred where only a sad emptiness had been before.

"No. You. Wouldn't" Each word was like a bullet tearing through Jubilee's flesh.

He abruptly turned around and left.

* * *

"He's not like me y'know"

Jubilee's heart suddenly quadrupled its pace

"Logan! Don't sneak up in me like that!" She put on her best pouty-face, but when she saw Logan's face all wishes of humour fled the scene.

"I'm serious Jubes. He's not like me. He'll not open up to you, no matter how hard you try.

"How would you know?" Jubilee demanded angrily. She loved Logan dearly, but sometimes his over-protectiveness could be really frustrating.

A dark shadow settled itself on Wolverine's features. "I just do!"

Jubilee's temper almost escalated off the charts. "That's _not_ an answer! If I can't talk to him I wanna know why!"

Logan also seemed to lose grip of his mighty temper.

"It's personal and that's final! Ya don't wanna know, an' ya don't have to know!"

Had her life been a comic book, Jubilee would be steaming from the top of her head right now. But this was reality, and as she stomped to the door and was about to slam it, she heard Logan's deep growl, suddenly devoid of all anger.

"Don't ask him about it, okay? It's too personal."

She slammed the door shut and marched away, intent on disregarding anything Logan had said, but his final words still reverberated inside her skull.

_"Don't ask him..."_

* * *

"I'm telling you, we can't let him leave"

Three persons were assembled in an office, taking in hushed voices; a handsome young blonde man, a tall, stone-faced man with red sunglasses, and a beautiful woman with an auburn mane with a white streak. Bobby Drake, Scott Summers and Rogue. Taking the closeness of all the inhabitants here into consideration, such a top-secret confederation looked completely erroneous

"I agree with Bobby, we simply cannot let a serial-killer back on the streets. It's just wrong!"

"Why don't the professor stop him. Ah mean, he's the one that brought 'im here right?" The woman spoke.

"He feels that that we owe it to him" Bobby sneered.

"Yes, he _did_ save Jubilee, but he's done something to Jean, I KNOW it! Ever since they met each other she has been strangely quiet. And I can feel her projecting a lot of fear."

The ever-blank expression on Scott's face began to melt into a softer expression.

"She had a nightmare last night" Scott choked. "I have almost never felt to much _fear_. And I could feel..._him..._being the source of that fear."

He received comforting words and gestures, and that seemed to steel his will

"I'm going to talk to the professor _now!" _He snapped. For all his respect for the professor, his love for Jean was more important to him. And right now, for maybe the first time ever, he felt that Xavier's judgement was severely off the mark.

Rogue jumped from her seat and stopped in mid-air, floating like she was underwater. "Yeah, you do that! Ah'll hold him back fer a while" And with that she was off...

* * *

Frank walked glumly through the corridors of the mansion. His thoughts were revolving around what Jubilee had said. The conversation had only lasted a few seconds, but it had opened up some festering wounds that Frank had hoped never to touch again. He could not let anyone get close he berated himself. Bad things happened when they got close. Death happened... Maria, Christie, Frank Jr... All dead...

No! Too much emotion. Stow it away. Hide it! Forget it!

"This is as for as ya get!"

This new voice snapped him out of his reverie, and he looked at the person blocking the corridor in front of him.

It was a woman. Perhaps five-foot-nine and very lean. Her reddish-brown hair cascaded down her shoulders, a white streak running through it like a river through a desert. And she looked very pissed off.

He looked at her unfazed, and politely asked her to move aside.

"No way, you're stayin' here!" She grabbed his arm as he passed, her gloved fingers boring into his arm like dull nails.

'_Real men don't hit ladies_' Or so they say, but a lifetime of experience had taught Frank that anybody could be an enemy, and when someone was an enemy, age, gender, race and all that shit means precisely dick.

Franks body tensed as he looked up and down the girl. Was she about to start a fight?

"Get out of my way" He spoke ominously.

"You just stay _raaight_ here, like a good boy" She smirked

Frank wasted no time, and like snakes his arms whipped out, trying to perform a little skeletal manipulation on her outstretched arm, but too late he discovered that bending her arms was like bending solid steel, and before he knew what had happened his feet was dangling off the ground, the girl holding him by his collar.

Frank kneed her in the stomach, kicked her chest, and generally did enough damage to kill any other man three times over, but Rogue just stood unfazed, smirking slightly at his failed attempts, until he grabbed her throat.

Frank's last conscious though was that she must have some sort of electrical powers, because it felt like his entire body was being wracked by several hundred volts.

...And then nothing...

* * *

And that was how they were found. Frank unmoving, and Rogue clutching her temples, screaming at the top of her lungs...

* * *

A/N: Okay, I PROMISE there'll be some action soon! All this talk is getting boring, eh? Or not?

Well, hopefully not, but still...

Oh, yeah, and drop a review, so that the proverbial gears may continue turning. (God that sounded cheesy) :-P

Oh yeah, I do NOT hate Scott, Bobby or Rogue!!! I will not bash ANYONE in this story, so PLEASE DON'T FLAME me, awright?

See ya!


	6. Nightmare

Steps on-stage, and instantly dives for cover as tomatoes, axes and throwing knives cover the scene. Peeks out from behind the curtain and dodges an ill-aimed brick. "Sorry it took so long..." Dodges another brick "...But I have been virtually computer-less..." This time a knife "...For a long time..." Hears the sound of a gun being cocked "...So please forgive me and enjoy the story" Scrambles away as a bullet enters the floor where he stood seconds before.

A certain black-clad vigilante grumbles.

"You shouldn't keep you reviewers waiting like that, byacth"

This chapter can be quite disturbing. Consider yourself warned.

- - - -

She was trapped

Everywhere she looked, vines, grass and trees surrounded her, and every time she looked away, they seemed to move a little closer. Trying to choke her. The heat was sickening, her head pounded, it sounded like someone was using her head as a drum. All sounds were muted, yet, strangely clear.

Her vision distorted, everything began to swirl, her eyes stung with her own sweat.

A tingling sensation. She was being watched. She knew it.

Suddenly, the roots and vines began slithering like grotesque vipers, curling up her legs. She felt the rough texture on her sensitive skin. Up, up, up.

She ran trough the hellish maze of green, the leaves cut her face, she tripped over the evil roots, twisting and bending under her feet. Her heart beat in a manic pace. She was scared. No, terrified.

She saw a light! A smile spread on her grimy face. The exit was just ahead; she sprinted for all she was worth, the jungle became desperate in its attempts at stopping her. But she would not be stopped. Just as her happiness had reached it peak, she slowed down. Why go out?

Suddenly, the gardens of hell seemed much more inviting. The vines caressed her face, and gently leading her back in...

She felt a different kind of happiness now, the wild joy of running through a darkly beautiful jungle. She filled her lungs with the dense air of the jungle, and she felt ecstatic. She was warm, she was happy, she was free.

She saw the light again, and she could make out the silhouette of three persons standing there, as if waiting. One looked adult; the two others were much smaller, like children. They hovered there like spirits, almost pleading her to come to them.

She ignored them, ran straight past them. She was free.

Her feet began slipping, as if the ground was wet, slick with something. She looked down. The muddy ground was all red. Her legs were covered in crimson. The air was stale, filled with the coppery smell of blood, filling her mouth and nose. Now she was scared again. What was this?

She tried to run back into the light, but slimy red vines curled around her body like blood-soaked snakes, covering her in slick red secrete, making her sick.

She franticly clawed at the vines, and in a gush of blood and offal they released her.

Everything was red and black. Where was the light? She ran with all her might, ducking under the slimy arches of red goo hanging down from the dead trees.

She saw it! The light. Her lungs burned and her breath was ragged, but still she ran.

The ground disappeared under her in a swirling red vortex, and she found herself swimming in the stinking blood, pushing her body beyond her limit, fighting the current and trying not to swallow the vile liquid.

She saw the woman in the light hold out her hand. Rogue grabbed it and with a strange ease, the woman pulled her out of the bubbling pool of madness.

She sat down and tried to steady her breath. She was still shaking from the terrible ordeal. She looked at her saviour. The woman stood and looked at her gently, holding her kids in her arms. She was beautiful, and Rogue was filled with a strange feeling. Almost like happiness and sadness at the same time.

Rogue wanted to thank them, but it was if her voice had fled, and she couldn't manage to bring forth a single syllable. The woman put down her children, and the boy, who was merely a toddler, went to her and embraced her, completely ignoring the fact that every inch of her body was covered in blood. Soon the little girl and the woman joined.

And so they sat in their little sanctuary of light, holding each other, seeking refuge from the hell around them.

But hell found them…

Rogue saw the familiar red vines creep soundlessly towards them, leaving a trail of blood on the ground, and she tried to scream…

…yet she couldn't make a sound. The woman and the kids seemed oblivious to the fact that they had bloody vines creeping all around them, despite Rogues attempts to warn them, and she could only watch as the vines first grabbed the toddler.

"Daddy?"

He looked confused. Why were these nasty things here? It felt wrong! They were all over him!!

"DADDY"

"CRACK" The vines snapped together around him, and his fragile bones could be heard splinter under the pressure.

Rogue could only watch in muted horror as they took the girl and tore her completely in half, covering her in the girl's insides, and lastly the vine curled around the woman's neck and squeezed, making her head explode like a melon stuffed with explosives.

She saw red!

Anger sizzled under her skin, boiling her brain and making her entire body tremble with rage.

They killed them! She had fought so hard, she had bled and cried, and they killed them! For no reason!! THEY KILLED THEM!!! WHY!?

Everything became a red blur. It felt like she had been lifted out of her own body. She could no longer feel her pain or exhaustion. Only anger!

The only thing she could her was her own heart beating in an insane pace, blasting blood and adrenaline through her veins in an obscure amount. Fuelling her.

The first vine gave a most satisfying crack as she tore in half with her bare hands, and it writhed and spluttered as in great pain. She wasted no more time. She tore through the forest of blood, shredding the sinewy growths as she went, hurting, maiming, and KILLING! She revelled in the frenzied bloodbath, laughing like mad, gleefully embracing the bloodlust and allowing herself to take delight in the senseless slaughter.

Three pairs of frightened eyes met her. As she clawed a vine asunder, she saw them. The woman and her children, all strangely clean. And they were staring at her, with horror in their eyes. Did they not recognize her? She look a step towards them and they scurried backwards, the woman clutching her children tightly. Rogue looked down herself, and realization hit her. She was drenched in blood. The vomitous layers were so thick it looked like she was made of blood, like she a monster....

A monster....

Monster...

The woman and her children pointed at her...

Monster...

Monster...

- - - -

Rogue woke up screaming.


	7. Nighttime kitchen conversation

First of all: A big ol' thanks to all, you guys and gals who have reviewed my story. I'm an incredibly lazy writer, and I'm truly sorry that y'all had to wait forever for a new chapter

The jungle sequence actually represents what happed to Frank in 'Nam. If you have read 'The Punisher: Born' I think you'll understand. If not, then let's just say Big Frank got a little too happy being down there…

Laura-trekkie: Gory indeed! I'll try to update a wee bit faster in the future. Thanks for the review

Chica De Los Ojos Cafe: I'm afraid there'll be no romance for Frank in this story. He's too messed up for that sort of thing ;)

Slickboy444: Thanks for the compliments. Nothing makes a day better than receiving such positive reviews. You might just be the reason this chapter gets posted quicker.

Gypsy: Errr, to tell the truth, I'm not all that well-versed in the X-men universe. Let's just say her guard was down or something. -.-'

A Greyer shade of grey: Thanks. I put a lot of effort in cooking up all these metaphors, so I'm glad they're appreciated.

Booyah: Jeg bor i Sønderjylland, i en lille by der hedder Genner. Ligger tæt på Aabenraa.

Now, let's get down to business, shall we? ;)

- - - -

Jean woke with a start. Her telepathic alarms were blaring inside her skull with enough urgency to make a fire-siren pale in comparison. Something was wrong. She could tell that Scott sensed it too, because he stirred and forced his eyelids open.

"Mmm. Something wrong, honey?"

He mumbled hazily, still trying to gather coherent thoughts through the cloud of sleep behind his eyes.

"Nothing honey, just another nightmare"

She hated lying to Scott. Guilt stirring in the pit of her stomach, snickering slyly at her, but she felt that this was something she should handle herself.

"Wanna talk about it?"

Even while intoxicated by need of sleep he still worried about her. She smiled and kissed him lightly on his lips.

"No"

Another kiss, this time a bit longer.

"But thanks"

He just slurred some kind of acknowledgment before surrendering to sleeps sweet oblivion. She smiled. He had been up all night brooding over something, like he would often do when something was bothering him. And it wasn't exactly brain-surgery finding out what was the problem, so he needed all the sleep he could get. He was a very calculating person, always analysing and evaluating whatever troubles the X-men were currently in. It would flicker behind his eyes like a rabid slide-show being fast-forwarded, and he wouldn't rest until a solution had presented itself.

But in this particular case, the only thing that presented themselves were more problems.

Jean waited until Scott's breathing was steady once more, then she gingerly got out of bed and headed in the general direction of the disturbance.

It wasn't long 'till she realized that she was headed for the kitchen. As the approached the door, she could hear the soft pit-pats of bare feet on the linoleum floor.

Being Polite as always, Jean knocked gently before entering. Inside Rogue was standing in her light-blue pyjamas and holding a glass of milk. Her hair looked like she had been break-dancing in her bed sheets, exploding into every direction in big, knotty tufts. Her face was pale and covered with a layer of cold perspiration. Her eyes looked haunted and were adorned with big bluish-black circles underneath.

"God, Rogue, what happened to you"

She looked up, only now becoming aware of Jean's presence. She also knew better that to try and make an excuse, so she simply told what she had dreamed, intentionally leaving out the gruesome details.

"… Ah mean, his memories were bad enough, but THIS"

Rogue felt her legs beginning to wobble dangerously, so she quickly pulled out a chair and plumped unceremoniously down in it, covering her moist eyes with her hands.

"Ah've never tried something like that before. It was horrible" Her voice began to quiver

Jean sat down next to the shaken woman and leaned her forehead on hers, and, using the gift she was granted, reached into Rogues mind, and with an incorporeal hand she soothed the churning chaos inside. She organized her thoughts, so she could think more rationally, and surpassed the fear that was suffocating Rogue's mind. She also looked deeper, and though she carefully kept her mind at a distance, she still saw some vague pictures of what Rogue had seen.

When she was done she leaned back in her chair, and was rewarded with the sight of a much calmer-looking Rogue.

"Thanks Jean"

She sounded like the weight of the entire mansion had been lifted off her shoulders. She leaned in and embraced the red-head in an appreciative hug, whispering her heart-felt thanks.

So they sat in silence for awhile, until Jean spoke up.

"A few days ago, I caught some stray thoughts from while he was in the infirmary. He was dreaming I think, and I got a full, unfiltered piece of his nightmare. It completely shattered my mental shields"

"How?" Rogue asked fearfully

"It's his psychosis I think"

Rogue jerked back in fear

"He's psychotic?"

"In a manner. He's not like Sabretooth or some of the other nut-cases. His psychosis doesn't make him a howling lunatic; it actually does the exact opposite. His mind is abnormally focused and singular, and he doesn't see the incorrect in killing hundreds of criminals. He lives and breathes for the war he wages. It's very scary, because it is impossible to tell if persons are like that. In fact, people with psychopathic characteristics like that are often fiercely intelligent."

"So he's a psychopath?"

Rogues voice was soaked in fear

"Not entirely. True psychopaths lack any empathy whatsoever. Frank doesn't. As you saw, he was willing to sacrifice his own life to rescue a complete stranger. He lives by some sort of personal codex. People guilty of severe crimes are free game, and innocents must be protected at all costs.

You could say that he has just takes the normal super-hero custom to the extremes"

"Poor guy.

A long silence followed, the dark mood saturated the room, covering both women in a thick layer.

"How is he?"

"He'll live. He doesn't seem very surprised at what happened. I guess he's getting used to our little quirks."

"Comes from living in a house where telekinesis and claws are as normal as legs, ah guess"

"Indeed. Well, I better get back to bed. If Scott wakes up he'll have a heart-attack if I'm not there"

Rogue chuckled, lightning the atmosphere considerable.

"Aww, that poor dear. You go be an obedient wife, now"

Jean began walking away, but before she closed the kitchen-door behind she smirked

"Just 'cause Gambit isn't here…"

"AH HEARD THAT!!"

- - - -

HAPPY NEWYEAR BOYS 'N' GALS!!!

Don't forget to write. A review, that is.


	8. Third awakeing

Just saw Blade; Trinity. WOW, those action-scenes are fookin' AWESOME, and that Van Wilder-dude got some of the funniest dialogues on movie-history. But the villain sucked….

Dowriter12: Thanks

Laura-trekkie: You will get Frank's reaction sooner or later

The Writing Bee: He won't be pleased, I can tell you that! :)

Gypsy: Thanks. I cooked all that up while I was writing, but I'm very pleased at how it turned out.

Slickboy444: Just looked over your profile again…. Who's your muse, where did you get it, and are there any more? MAN you've got a lot of stories. A lot of very LONG and GOOD stories. How do you do it, man? I have trouble continuing the three stories I'm writing now, and this here is the longest of them. You really have my respect, and I'll get around to reviewing your stories once I get them read.

P.S Linkin Park do indeed _ROCK _;)

101: Ahhh, actually I have. The AN in the prologue is kinda out-dated. Sorry ;

- - - -

Consciousness kissed Frank like a brick to the face, bloodshot eyes cracking open to the cold warmth of fluorescent lightning and nausea. He was back in the infirmary. After swiftly checking himself for injuries, he tentatively got out of the bed. It felt like he had been turned inside-out three times over. Not a very pleasant sensation.

"So, how are you feeling Mr. Castle?" A voice boomed from behind him, startling him bad enough so that he had to suppress the initial neck-snapping reflexes. He turned around and looked at a smiling Hank McCoy.

"Like hammered shit"

Silence followed as Hank wandered around checking the various beeping screens attached to his patient, letting him know of the slightest dissonance in his patients' health. Correcting his thin-rimmed glasses with his meaty fist, his pen danced frantically over the obligatory clipboard, held in his left foot. Like some contemporary sculpture he stood on one leg, perfectly balanced, in his lab coat, analyzing eyes bouncing from the screens to the clipboard.

Frank would have had trouble trusting such a monkey-doctor if he didn't look so damn good at it.

"You gave her quite a scare you know"

"What?" Frank rumbled "I was the one who got electrocuted"

"Excuse me?" Hank said bewildered.

"Yeah, when I grabbed her throat. It felt like she fried me"

Hank just looked at him with a withering glare

"I can assure you, you were the one who got the easy end of the bargain"

Frank narrowed his eyes "What?"

"Her powers are not those of electricity, but of absorption. She absorbed your thoughts and memories"

The only sound that could be heard in the sterile room was the steady humming of the trusty machined faithfully doing their job. The only sound that could be heard for a long while…

"My…memories?" A strange grimace swept over his face for less than a second before reverting back to the normal stoniness.

Hank averted his gaze to the floor, and spoke quietly, almost as if embarrassed. "Yes. I'm afraid they haven't been kind to her. When we found you she was screaming and sobbing uncontrollably.

She hasn't spoken to anyone yet, so I'm afraid she has been rather traumatized"

Frank couldn't bring himself to respond. The prospect of another being seeing his memories affected him more than he liked to admit. He felt anger. His memories were the only thing sacred to him. It was the only ray of light in the inky blackness of his mind, the single strained string of sanity keeping him focused. The thought of someone..._stealing_…his memories; raping everything he held dear infuriated him.

At the same time, he felt pity. There was a reason that he preferred not to tell people of his pain. Because it was pain. His memories were nothing but pain. His pain. His own, no one else's'. Nobody deserved that kind of pain, not even himself. But wallowing in self-pity had never been his strongest trait. Even before the tragedy, he had been a man of firm decisiveness and resolve, always thinking ahead instead of behind.

Some time after his war had begun, the dark silhouette of self-doubt began seeping in though invisible cracks in his skull. Am I doing the right thing? Am I betted than them? Worse?

At first it was just a hairline mist behind his eyes, but in time the fog grew denser, until it almost blinded him. He was left open to exploitation, and exploited he were.

But to cut it short, after the witnessing life seep from thousand of bodies such doubts seemed rather pointless. Any hopes of redemption had long since fled in the panorama of such extensive bloodshed. He kept it bottled up, and in the words of one of his former biggest enemies; 'bottles like his don't break.'

How right he was…

- - - -

Cherry, strawberry or raspberry?

Flipping through her arsenal of bubblegum, Jubilee had come up with three finalists.

It's strange how some people use different things to find some personal Elysium when the rest of world gets too intense for comfort. Some work out, some have sex, some use those wanky anti-stress balls, and some go crazy. And Jubilee used bubblegum. The soft sensation of flavoured synthetic candy being squashed between her teeth seemed to relax her immeasurably.

After some moments of deep philosophy, she popped two pieces of cherry-flavoured sticks into her mouth and turned to leave, the gum already working its magic.

Her course was clear; the infirmary. She just wanted to make sure he was alright. Rumours were spreading all over the mansion like a bad case of influenza, and even though some of the gossips were obviously painfully false, (Jubilee seriously doubted Frank had tried to steal Rogues thongs)

and no information had been confirmed; she had a very good idea of what happened.

She tried to put a bounce in her step, but she had to admit that it quickly became too painful. She winced inwardly. The marks left upon her by the sacrilege still hadn't faded completely. She could feel a lump in her throat growing rapidly, but she forcibly swallowed and sniffled loudly, burrowing the feelings inside her chest. It would be all right she assured herself. When the wounds disappeared, everything will be alright…

She met Hank in the hallway, his muscular form still wrapped in a tight-fitting lab-coat. Shadows encircled the sober look on his face, a pointed difference between the usual warm smile that graced his features. However, it retuned instantaneously when he laid eyes on Jubilee.

"Ah Jubilee, how are you feeling" His soft baritone rumbled.

"Ok, I guess" She smiled back, though her smile was a little bit forced, something that didn't escape Hanks attention. A blue eyebrow was raised sceptically.

"Are you sure?" He asked inquisitively

"Yeah" she whispered, this time more genuinely. "How is he?"

Hank immediately knew who she was talking about. His face reverted back to the grimace he had worn before he saw Jubilee. Although he was not as judgemental as certain other residents here, he certainly couldn't applaud this one-sided friendship. He feared that Frank's darkness should somehow affect her, maybe even hurt her.

Then Hank scolded himself. He knew that Frank would never hurt the young woman intentionally. Not even if hell froze over.

Still, there's a thousand ways to hurt somebody unintentionally. When you lived in a place where suppressed fear, anger, uncertainty and love hung so densely in the air that the smell burned your nostrils, you leaned such things.

"He's sour" Was the only answer.

- - - -

Opening the infirmary door without knocking proved to be quite a mistake. By some warped twist of fate, she managed to look inside the very moment Frank discarded the paper-like sheet, also known as a hospital gown, which covered his body. Wearing absolutely nothing underneath. Fortunately for her, he stood with his back to her. She felt her face grow warm and dry, embarrassment coursing merrily through her veins. But just as she was about to turn away something caught her eyes. She had long since grown used to perfectly sculptured male bodies, seeing as how every denizen here, even herself, followed a rigid exercise-program, keeping them in peerless shape. However, never before had Jubilee laid eyes on a being as scarred as Frank. She sharp lights cast an eerie shadow over his body, outlining every little scar, even those that would be impossible to spot otherwise. Long-since healed slashes, bullet-holes, burn marks and covered his backside, telling a terrifying story of struggle and bloodshed. She couldn't even begin to imagine how a person, especially a non-mutant, could get so many scars and still breathe. There looked to be enough to kill a human ten times over.

She was snapped out of her stupor as he slipped a white t-shirt over his scars, and Jubilee could feel panic beginning to freeze her insides. How long had she stood looking at him? He was fully dressed now. Either he was an exceptionally quick dresser, or she had stood an ogled at him for far too long. She was just about to flee the scene when a familiar harsh voice disrupted her escape.

"Did you want something?"

Jubilee felt a bucket of ice-water being poured over her. He knew? Her tongue suddenly swelled up, making it nearly impossible to form any rational sentences.

"S-sorry, I-I just…"

"Go on"

"I wanted to... I… are-are you alright?" She finally managed.

"You should be more concerned about yourself, y'know?"

Jubilee was completely taken aback at that reply

"What? I-I was just being nice…" She began, but Frank interrupted her before she could begin any kind of ranting.

"Are you alright, Jubilee?" Frank asked in spite of himself.

He could still see the faded cuts and bruises on her pretty face, like a memento of the brutality of the outside world. Frank also became aware of her expression twitching with pain after each carefully measured step, and immediately wished he hadn't. Before he managed to close that mental doorway, he saw the blood seeping out from between her thin, black-and-blue legs like a small creek of liquid pain, testimony to the amount of hurt evil beings could cause others. If the blood was from the cuts, a once-virginity or both no one could tell. No one but her.

"I…I…" The words clumped together in the back of her mouth, refusing to let her lie in his presence. All she mustered was a wobbly "No"

She felt like crying. Of all the people she wanted to be strong for, she felt her saviour deserved to see her in good spirits, not weeping like a weakling over past things unchangeable. Her failure to do so burned like acid in the back of her oral cavity.

Unexpectedly, a thick arm found its way over her slim shoulders, offering her to release the mounting emotions into the owner's chest. And so she did.

For the first time since he died, Frank Castle held a crying girl in his arms, making use of a fatherly skill long forgotten. Comfort…

- - - -

Gah! How sappy! goes vomiting

Alright people, hands up; should there be more action in the next chapter. Yes or no. I'm voting yes…


	9. AN

Authors' note:

Man I'm such a prick, keeping you guys waiting like that, but I've had some personal trouble lately, so I haven't had the mood to keep this story going. Plus, I have a writers' block the size of Australia.

I read somewhere that the best way to break it is to write something else, so I've just started a brand new story that I'll post within the next few days, so anyone who has been kind enough to review, would you _please_ drop a review on my new fic. Gods know that I could use some cheering up.

The new story will be called 'Corpses' and it's a Max Payne/Punisher crossover. Look for it in the Max Payne section.

Anyhoo, this story'll probably get put on hold for the moment as I work on the new one, so please forgive me for not being able to continue this, and support me with my new project. The first three chapters are written and ready to be posted.

Big thanks to all the wonderful people who has reviewed my humble writings. You have my eternal gratitude.

P.S If any of you geniuses have some ideas as to how this story should go on, feel free to e-mail me!


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